Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Life Is Choices

Consuela, my gardener, was now great with child. Ahmed, my driver, handyman and Consuela's husband, was also showing signs of expectation -- he had actually dented the Bentley when backing out of the garage, something he had never done before. Both were obviously losing focus (Consuela had lost track of where she had planted the tulip bulbs , and only found them after the squirrels had) and something had to be done.

I called them both into drawing room, determined to find out what was amiss. Something was at work that went beyond hormonal change.

"Now then you two," I said, "is everything OK?"

"Everything is fine," said Ahmed.

"Yes," put in Consuela, "the doctor is pleased with the progress. The ultrasound --"

"Good, good," I replied. No need, I thought, to go into every pre-natal detail. "Then what is it?"

"What is what?" asked Ahmed.

"Something is really bothering you two," I stated, "and your work is beginning to suffer. Now just what is going on?"

"Well," admitted Consuela, "we are having, er, discussions on how to handle the child's religious life."

Readers may recall that Ahmed is an observant Muslim, while Consuela is a devout Catholic. I am nothing if not an equal opportunity employer. And I now began to suss out just what was at issue.

"So", I said, "it is a matter of what religion the child will be exposed to."

Their silence confirmed agreement with this.

I leaned forward. "Might I offer some advice?"

They looked at each other, then nodded.

"Don't do anything. There are times in life where doing nothing is a wise course to follow. Like staying away from the junk bond market. Or not forwarding chain mail. Or, in this case, leaving the kid alone to make up his or her own mind."

"But Father Clipart said --"

"My Imam made the point --"

I cut them both short.

"Look. You are not as far apart as you might think. After all, you are, if I can use the present vernacular, two microchips soldered together on the motherboard of life. And it seems to be working well. That will have more effect on the child than any theology will."

The two of them remained silent, absorbing this, and I realized that the motherboard allusion was perhaps not the best illustration I could have used.

I continued. "Look. Both of the texts you adhere to, the Bible and the Qu'Ran, have beautiful, truthful passages in them. They also contain a great deal of rubbish. Emphasize the truthful ones, ignore the others."

"What," ventured Ahmed, "is wrong with the Qu'Ran?"

"Wrong may not be the term," I said. "Relevant is a better word. For instance, the Qu'ran is silent on cars."

"What?" exclaimed Ahmed.

"In Saudi Arabia, as I am sure you know, Ahmed, the Qu'Ran is cited as a authority that bans women from driving cars. This is pushing things a bit, don't you think?"

"But there is no Qu'Ranic reference," said Ahmed, "to women driving anything. Therefore --"

"Not entirely true. Women in the Ninth century often drove carts. Goodness, from time to time they are pictured dragging them. I always wondered where the guys were, but that's neither here nor there."

"The Bible," put in Consuela, "only speaks truth."

"Doubtful," I countered. "In an earlier time, perhaps. I do recall that the Bible urges that a witch should not be suffered to live. Today, I know some Wiccans that would have issues with that statement. So I would let the child simply be. Show him or her the best of your respective religions, and allow the child to determine his or her course in due time. There is a principle that I think spans both the Qu'Ran and the Bible that you might consider. Mens sano in corpore sano.

The both looked at me blankly. Modern education has a lot to answer for.

I sighed. "It's from the Roman writer, Juvenal. Literally, 'a healthy mind in a sound body.' Not the worst principle to remember when raising a child. Now back to work, you two. And for goodness sake, focus.

One can but hope.

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